A Losing Game
by plug in baby57
Summary: Freddie never wins against Sam, so it's all the more galling when she buys an Xbox just so he can fail to beat her some more. Rated for one quite violent paragraph and a few cases of fragging.


DISCLAIMER: (Warning, reading this disclaimer may ruin the twist(s) of the story) I do not own iCarly, Call of Duty, Halo, Gears of War, Ace Combat, FIFA, or Mortal Kombat. No profit is made here, this is not a commercial venture. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

It was nineteen forty four. Private First Class Fredward Benson, a U.S airborne infantry sniper, was in the tower of a half destroyed church in northern France. The butt of his rifle was tight against his shoulder and his eye pressed to the scope as he scanned the windows to his south. He knew his target, he's studied the opposing sniper's tactics. He was sure that they'd come from the south, given the last position he saw them in. They would try to outflank him and get a clear shot from the side where the church had partially collapsed, where he was most exposed. He was sure that he'd get them this time. The south is the only open area and the church is the tallest building in the village, the German sniper must be coming from there, he thought to himself.

He checked that there was a round in the chamber, it wouldn't have done any good if he'd forgotten to reload. He hadn't, he was definitely locked and loaded. He went back to scanning the windows, knowing only too well that this sniper was good. Much better than he had expected. He realised that he was making himself nervous, his rifle was moving from side to side too much, he had to slow his breathing, get his nerve back and be sure he was ready to shoot. He knew that he was good at this, excellent even. No sniper had beaten him yet, but this one was something else. They'd tormented him for too long, he had to get this kill.

He went back to the windows. Checked them methodically. Tall, grey building at the end of the road, he looked at the upstairs windows, right, left and centre. Nothing. Not the slightest sign. Downstairs there was nothing. Each window with a clear view of him was empty. It had been too long. The sniper wasn't coming. They'd predicted the trap but then what? Was it safe for him to move or wasn't it? The sniper could've be watching the church tower windows or the entrance. He knew however, that they were impatient. If they wanted to play the waiting game they can, he could last all day.

He waited for another five minutes, scanning those windows to the south. No sign of activity but he was sire that the German sniper would come round to the south, he knew that they're too impatient to watch the church door. There was only one spot that they could get a clear shot on him and that was to the south. He had to keep watching the south. If he hadn't been so busy he'd have contemplated the irony. He'd grown up with this German sniper. And he'd been outshone at every turn. They treated everything like it was life and death. But, of course, _now_ it was. Childhood friends now in a deadly duel of skill. This was _the_ competition, winner and loser with nothing but death for second place and his last chance to prove he was better.

He checked the windows again. Nothing. Wait, he thought, they couldn't be sneaking in? No, I'd have heard them. They might not be willing to wait but there's no way they can get around that quietly. Just when he thought that a German bayonet slid into his lower back. He heard a disconcertingly high pitched, feminine laughter as he found himself floating about four foot above his body, circling it and seeing the German sniper jumping upon his fresh cadaver. And then came the words he'd experienced too many times: _You've been killed by Cpl. Sam Puckett. You will respawn in 10... 9..._

The words angered him greatly. He'd been playing this game for three weeks before he got promoted to PFC, Sam had played for three days and was already a Corporal. He could still hear her laughter through his headset and was ready to throw his controller across the room in rage. He didn't of course, because he'd had to pay for the Xbox 360 himself and didn't want to waste even more money. Sam was still screaming into her microphone.

"Oh yeah," she whooped. "Say it dork, Say it!"she ordered and he imagined her jumping up and down on her sofa. He'd lost the bet and with it his perfect record. Sure his kill score wasn't the highest on team death match, but he had three weeks without a single death before he played Sam. And this wasn't the first time, either. She'd embarrassed him on Halo, Gears of War, Ace Combat and pretty much every other game in his collection. Call of Duty was the final nail in the coffin. As he thought about all the games she'd beaten him on, with ease, he missed respawning and being shot in the head.

"You haven't said it yet Freddork." she noted, forcefully.

"Fine," he intoned dejectedly, like church bells tolling at a funeral. "You're better than me." he squeezed out in one quick burst.

"No, Dorkface. Like we discussed, do it properly."

"Ugh." He grunted. "Samantha Puckett," he said as clearly as he consciously could, "Is better and always will be better than me at everything I'll ever love."

"Oh, that feels good," she said, apparently in the middle of a mock orgasm. Freddie quickly tried to kill that line of thought. "What else can I kick your ass on?"

"Sam, you've beaten me on every multiplayer game I own." He chose to respawn with a machine gun the next time, prepared to bunny hop his way to victory if necessary.

"I'm sure I haven't beaten you on Fifa yet." She noted, as he bounced through the church looking for a kill.

"Sam, I don't know what Fifa is." He hopped through the doorway into the church tower to find an exploding grenade at his feet. She was impossibly good at this game.

"You wouldn't, would you?" she tuts. "It's a soccer game. I'm getting bored of this map, switch it to Dawnville."

"No way, Carentan's better." He knew Carentan, he was top of the leaderboard for Carentan, he couldn't lose, he knew he could get into the lead on this map.

It turned out he couldn't get into the lead on the Carentan map. Or railyard, or Brecourt. It didn't matter which sides they chose or weapons, she fragged him time and time again. Three weeks of work getting himself to the top of the Carentan leaderboard was now down the drain and his death tally was closing in on his kills score. It took three weeks to build and his work had been torn down in just three hours by Sam. She was one destructive girl. He had to quit before his death-to-kills ratio hit one to one. There comes a time in every man's life when they have to cut their losses, and Freddie decided that this was his.

The upset he felt from the defeat was not just because of his broken pride. He had convinced his mother that Call of Duty was educational because of the world war two time period, it was one of the few violent games that got past his mom. Halo and Gears of War had been banned when she found out what they entailed. Now, after all the bragging he'd done on internet messageboards her couldn't show his face on Call of Duty for a while. Not only did Sam torment him in real life but now she was making forays into geekdom to further abuse him. It had to stop and he had a plan.

**BOCAGEBRECOURTCARENTANDAWNVILLEDEPOTHARBORHURTGENPAVLOVPOWCAMPRAILYARDROCKETNEUVILLESTALINGRAD**

It took four weeks for his plan to come to fruition. Four weeks of deception, creeping around, practicing, trying to keep his plans hidden from his mother. Even Carly had started to worry about him. But he knew he was fine, he just had to get Sam back. Oh boy, was he getting Sam back. Weeks of training had lead to this point. His hand grasping, clutching a fist of blond hair and pulling upwards. Yanking upwards and hearing the sounds of victory over Sam, squelching, cracking and tearing as her head tore from her neck, spinal cord following. Gore spurted from her stump of a neck as he held his gruesome trophy aloft. Then those words he'd waited for, after so long they were finally here.

_Sub Zero wins. Fatality._

He might have felt sorry for poor headless Sonya, but no one could know the ecstasy of getting one over Sam on her favourite game. His mother would have a field day if she knew that he'd been playing this game. It was horribly and gloriously violent, Sam Puckett's favourite game could be nothing less. He'd spent weeks making sure his mom never caught him playing it, giving up his sleep to get extra hours of practice, and it was worth it. For a couple of seconds.

"Ha," he gloated via microphone, "Who's the best now?"

"It was all part of my plan, Benson." his blond nemesis laughed.

"What?"

"You may have won on Mortal Kombat but I know you haven't slept properly for four weeks. You've been acting very suspicious recently and with some subtle suggestions I've convinced both Carly and your crazy mom that you've been smoking weed." He knew he'd been played and felt a rage so intense he couldn't find words to describe it.

**TESTYOURMIGHTKANOLIUKANGRAIDENJOHNNYCAGESCORPIONSUBZEROSONYATESTYOURMIGHT**

Sam, meanwhile, found herself rolling around in front of her battered old sofa, clutching her sides which were almost literally splitting. Six months in the making, hundreds of dollars spent on the xbox and games but it was all worth it for the sound in her headset. A great, voluminous roar of blind fury had been ejected by Freddie and that was reward enough for her.

**A/N - This is dedicated a Call of Duty 1 player named Tanya, who I remember from seven or eight years ago. She was ridiculously good and I doubt she'll ever read this but as I made Sam a god at computer games I was reminded of her. It's also dedicated to anyone else who played COD1 and remembers the good old days of Carentan, rifles-only Harbor and HQ on Depot. And all my fellow nineties children that played Mortal Kombat and watched the movies.**

**I'm not massively happy with the ending, I rushed it a bit and really couldn't think of a way to expand it. I wasn't really sure where to go after the Call of Duty section until I remembered Sub Zero's fatality and thought I could basically redo the earlier reveal. I'm not sure who could suspend disbelief long enough to believe that Freddie had actually pulled off Sam's head though.**

**And a big thank you to my single reviewer so far, Croaker001. The second chapter of iHate Sport should be along soon.  
**


End file.
